Signature
by Saniwa
Summary: A person must look up to and be signeted first before creating an image of his own to be hold in certain regard. “My dream is to become the greatest Hokage…” An all too familiar ultimate goal, but what is the stirring impulse of it? [Sig1][4th,Naruto]


**Disclaimer: **Heaven forbid I own Naruto and its characters (pouts)  
**Summary:** "My dream is to become the greatest Hokage…" An all too familiar ultimate goal, but what is the stirring impulse of it?  
**Character(s):** Uzumaki Naruto, Yondaime  
**Pairing: **none  
**Rating: **PG for violence in the beginning.

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Beta work by susanperi; massive finishing up by Amber Gaze

"talk"

_'thought'_

_emphasizing _

**_"connotation"_**

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**_"Human, your "doing" wonders." _(1)**  
The child looks up but there are only hatred and disgust bestowed upon him. 

**_"An unsung hero…" _**  
Even within the scope of Death, the deceased cannot find his rest.

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**Signature #1 – Habataku Mirai **

sig•na•ture: n. a distinctive mark, characteristic, or thing that identifies somebody

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Ten little fingers are trembling, marred by bruises and stiffened under an assault of chilly air. A boy, fully clad in an atrocious orange jumpsuit, is blending into one of the shadows between narrow alleys of a rundown complex with shredded rooftops. He has succeeded in one of his naughtier pranks, again, to the nice-to-anyone-but-him tailor around the corner a few blocks from his apartment. _'That senile old man could not possibly think that he MUST wear this jumpsuit only, did he?' _All the time… Even in winter? 

Well, he will just have to fix that, right? After all, he merely has to make sure that his objective will be having no pristine clothes to work in until the end of the year. Hey, he is giving the old man a favor through his work. He tries cracking a haughty grin; in spite of his thought of success he finds himself cannot. His cheeks are still engorged and throbbing due to the large amount of beatings from random passersby who thought they might get lucky. Nevertheless, he need not worry because now is the ideal time for his ass-kicking recuperation to chip in.

Gritting his teeth, he can _**"hear"**_ the familiar feeling and sounds of broken bones snapping back into place. Then the rush of blood to ease the swelling in places he does not even know it is possible to experience pain in to begin with. Just after turning the corner he has used to hide, he encounters someone; slightly bumping into that person. One who has never been in his shoes will not make any questions on why Naruto expects insults, is prepared for hurtful beatings, or anything that has been set for him in this circular line of fate even when he began to say his first words.

_'They will never question let alone understand.'_

His heart is constricted tightly within the confinement of his chest; it hurts to beat as he takes a very deep breath, clenching it with his ribs. Tilting his chin up after clenching his jaw tightly in a firm determination of what will be coming, the boy's huge blue eyes widen as much as it is possible, and then blink vigorously, eyelids fending all hands of illusion off.

If there are any.

Since apparently, today the said fate decides to humor him a bit.

_'Im- impossible.' _

He recognizes this man, how will not he, the man who is oh-so-casually crouching in front of him right now, from one of the pictures which decorate the Hokage's office. More untamed and longer, golden sun kissed locks crown majestically and twin steely sapphire gems that could peer into others' souls openly.

_'There's no frickin' way.'_

This has to be a dream. He begins believing Iruka-sensei's words on how **_"nice"_** ramen is for one's health. Can over-consumption take a toll on his vision as well?

_'Yes, that's it.' _

In amidst of his barraging questions, he feels something warm and fuzzy. Certainly, his confusion is no longer his mind's priorities when a robe is draped over him. Enough to show the wind goddess, there are some things she cannot touch.

It's like a missing piece of a forsaken part within him is not there anymore. There is no longer a big _**"hole"**_ gaping open. Oddly, he realizes it has nothing to do with his healing ability. It is not even related to physical. To put it simply…

He feels whole.

Albeit, he is not sure how and why _**"whole"**_ would be the best word to describe it.

He does not blink for a good few minutes or so, the amount of sheer awe dumb-striking him, making Uzumaki Naruto, for the first time in his short and uneventful life, helplessly lost for words.

The longer their gazes lock onto each other's, a nosy part of his brain is more and more assured all this is nothing but charades. Nonetheless, there is no triumph or ill-willed glints in those eyes. Only welcome, along with foreign feelings that are not supposed to be there. Feelings that are not supposedly given to him, especially from a man renowned as the greatest hero whose ground he walked on is worshiped by everyone even after his demise.

_'Is it...' _

Regret.

___'and…' _  
  
Guilt.

_'But why?'_

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His wry smile is trying to hide his deepest remorse and longing in life whilst he gently covers the small shoulder of his much younger and shorter mirror image with his robe. A robe that, flashily, he had worn to show the highest pride one can achieve. 

However, it is exceptionally hard. Harder than when he had to decide the desperate measure taken years ago for the sake of his people. People whom he had sworn to protect with his life, blood, and tears. Not when those listless eyes do not even bother hiding their anxiety clouded over by bewilderment, a silent response for his simple gesture of compassion.

___'Oh, Kami.'_

What had he done?

The boiling rage towards those who have betrayed the sacrifice of their greatest hero who carries what any other hero cannot is nothing compare to his self-loathing. An eternal battle in the stomach of Death cannot even redeem his crimes. He had ripped the boy's innocence ruthlessly, burdened his life, and ruined his future.

___'And people respect me.'_

He cannot help but scoff the irony of reality. Looking straight into those blue eyes so much like his own, he wants to wind his arms around the other, badly, to recoup what the boy had lost and missed so greatly in life. To hide his face from shame on those delicate shoulders. To utter an apology this oh-so-called hero will never deserve.

Yet, he knows and is afraid that he will be drowning in a more terrible quicksand if he has done so. Because of the pain, loneliness, abandonment… everything. It is an understatement of the century as to why his soul could not find peace. Briefly, he wonders how worthy the greater good is. Inwardly, he frowns to himself. He cannot do much about it now.

He leans his body forward a little to pass his legacy a simple statement, and yet it had been an indissoluble pillar of his beliefs before Death claimed him. Even though if one is in the deepest hell or in the worst situations, as long as one clings into it, there is nothing to fear. For a moment, he thought it was useless. However, when those dull blue eyes leave his, slowly creeping fixedly towards a monument commemorating the strongest ninjas for holding up their responsibility, a million shards of determination become a composite of the brilliant cerulean jewels.

His lips waver. His heart leaps with warmth and joy, despite the fact that Death will reclaim him any moment for eternity; it does not hinder the joy the slightest.

He knows what the boy's dream is.

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Naruto turns around, then hastens his pace considerably, presenting his now covered back with a big red kanji of **'Fourth Generation Fire Shadow'** glaring proudly at the smiling Hokage. 

The end of the oversized robe does not bother to graze the dusty street of Konoha -- the lining, red flames licking its bottom, reflects uneven auburn patterns courtesy of the fierce evening sun. And, the dangling long white sleeves, starting from his shoulders all the way down past his hips both on his sides, are floating in the air imitating a set of stretched-out hands.

They are a pair of flapping wings. His wings for the future.

There was no silly smile or his usual foxy grin -- in reciprocate -- only resilient fortitude that can make even the legendary Kyuubi no Kitsune, who is secretly and soundly residing inside him, impressed.

As on his steady walk, his mind only kept on recalling Yondaime's words. The earnest acknowledgement and the undeniable expectation behind them, making his tiny heart burst. With Pride. Joy. And foremost, hope.

_"Prove what reigned upon you wrong. You are what you achieve. Your dreams. Your future."____  
_  
Just wait, Konoha.___ Here comes the future Hokage!_

O.W.A.R.I

03.05

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(1) This sentence is said by the God of Death to Yondaime. Kind of a 'call' since the technique which was used to seal Kyuubi made the Hokage's soul trapped within the Death's belly for eternity.  
Note: A nice heartwarming piece of art of Yondaime draping his robe over Naruto's shoulders inspired this one-shot. I believe some of you knew which one thus please don't sue me, a penniless fangirl, for it.

**//Habataku Mirai – Future with Flapping Wings//**  
Check my profile for resource's link.

Don't forget to review. It's much appreciated ne! Thanks.

-mn


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